


Belladonna in the East Shroud

by Filthylocks



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Botanist | BTN (Final Fantasy XIV), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Off-screen, Teaching, White Mage | WHM (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthylocks/pseuds/Filthylocks
Summary: A'liou Khrama, a young Mi'qote woman, enjoys a chance to ask her (somewhat infamous) herbalism instructor some questions while being a cat during class.
Kudos: 1





	Belladonna in the East Shroud

I sat crouched in the shade of a tall tree, enjoying a pleasantly cool breeze. We had been at this all day long, and for a winter's afternoon, it was unseasonably quite hot in the direct sunlight, especially with my dark hair and skin tone.

My tail thumped the ground behind me as I daydreamed, watching the figure of the Mi'qote before me. 

In my mind, I saw those hands, which were currently so delicately manipulating the stem of a small, green plant, curled into fists, flying with speed and abandon towards a nameless opponent in the pugilist rings of Ul'dah. I giggled at the absurdity, unable to repress myself (something I was already bad at anyway).

"A'liou, are you paying attention...? We took this trip out here especially for you, you know. I've no need of any more belladonna this year; this is a lesson!" said Zivan Baran, my instructor in herbalism, and I felt my ears press against my head at the minor scolding.

"A-ah... Sorry! I've been so distractable today. Anyway, so you were saying, about the toxicity of the berries...?" I asked, hoping to placate him. He wasn't particularly an impatient teacher, or, as far as I had ever seen, prone to anger, but... I had been kind of testing him today.

After a few moments of him staring at me in clear irritated disbelief, I realized that was probably not what we had been talking about.

"A'liou. I told you about the toxicity of this plant ten minutes ago," he said, his expression flattening, "shortly before I told you how to harvest the root of this plant without souring its medicinal potency..."

I cringed, scratching my head. "...Sorry boss, I've been feeling weird today. Just having one of those days where I can't focus," I said, looking at him and hoping he knew what I meant. He was a Mi'qote, too, right? He had to have days like this.

To my relief, he did nod and sigh, reaching up and running his hands over his tight braids, and his horns.

I still haven't gotten used to seeing those. I've been studying under the fellow for about a year now, but it was only very recently, in the last month or so, that he started 'showing off his rack', as I so often put it, to irritate him.

"Yes, I know the feeling well. Well, chin up and focus for a moment, A'liou, I'll be satisfied with today's lesson if you can just acquire this specimen adeptly," he said, falling backwards off his feet to land with a soft 'whump!' on his backside in the moss. 

I leaned in, and with some gently offered verbal guidance from my instructor, set about the task of retrieving the delicate plant from the earth. 

The next few minutes passed in companionable silence, and I had known Zivan long enough not to feel too awkward when he wasn't talking. He was a thoughtful person, and moreover, sometimes preferred to communicate non-verbally. 

As I worked, it occurred to me that there were a great many things which I was curious about Zivan Baran. 

"So, boss... I know all about your job as a doctor and stuff. And obviously, you're great at herbalism," I began, and his ears perked, sensing an inquiry coming his way.

"What confuses me is these stories I hear about what you get up to in Ul'dah," I finished, giving him a glance and seeing if that was enough to get him talking. He looked vaguely embarrassed, but gave a smile and tilted his head as he responded.

"Well... I can only guess as to what you've heard. I've heard some fairly... scandalizing rumors about myself, and most of them aren't even truth-adjacent," he replied, leaning back on his palms, his tail starting to flick around.

"Oh...? Well, uh, I just meant the, um... pugilism, mainly. I'd also heard you like to watch the gladiators?" I asked, starting to feel a little bit less comfortable with my line of questioning, but this was something I wanted to know about. Some of my other instructors in Gridania didn't seem to like Zivan very much, and I overheard two of them criticizing his 'love of crude blood sport' over drinks last week. With how long I'd known the man, it seemed strange to me that he'd enjoy such a spectacle, but... then I kept hearing it. 

It's a small thing, but I had to know. That feline part of me had to open that door.

He squirmed a little, but then seemed to rally, nodding his head and sighing deeply. 

"Yes. I find myself rather taken by the martial arts lately. It's a consensual outlet for those of us with instincts towards violence," He explained, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Some of my contemporaries decry it as 'barbarism', but if you want my advice, immediately doubt the words of ANY who use that term."

He smiled at me, looking somewhat tired as his dark scarlet eyes met my own. He had such a warm presence in person, it made the warnings I'd been saddled with a year ago seem quite silly.

"You HAVE heard what they say about that man?" my mother had told me, scraping the hair from a hide, preparing it for tanning, and the market.

"I've heard he's a voidsent...! Poisons you with sweet words, until you destroy yourself...!" She continued, but at that point, my mind was already made up. I had a chance to study under Zivan Baran, and his legacy as a healer spoke for itself.

"He doesn't even destroy you himself...?" I asked my mother, feeling cheeky, "That's not a very scary voidsent, mom."

She clicked her tongue at me, thoroughly annoyed. I felt rather pleased with myself. She gestured at me knowingly with her knife held idly in her hand.

"You'll be sorry, A'liou. And so will I. I just hope you have the good sense to keep your damn ears up...! I already know you're going, just be careful...!"

And honestly, that wasn't even the worst of what I had heard about Zivan Baran. For some reason, he scared people... and that was before he began to show his horns openly. 

The only thing I ever heard about Zivan that moved me at all was a third hand account from the sister of the husband of a Wood Wailer, who claimed to have seen the doctor fighting some poachers-turned-highwaymen. 

"He turned the White against them, and it tore at them, split at them...! One of them stepped up and grabbed his staff, and Zivan broke his jaw with his elbow, took him to ground and strangled him...! He had this light in his eyes the entire time, like he was having the time of his life. And he was grinning...!"

The image of my patient, kindly teacher choking the life from a bandit, fanged grin showing, was honestly kind of unsettling. Even if the guy deserved it.

Something light and grey flicked against my ear, and I jumped. 

"If you keep on squeezing that berry, and it gets into a scratch on your hand, you might get sick," he said, looking at me with a sort of patient annoyance, and tossing another pebble up and down.

"...Sorry! Man, I'm really spacing out today," I said, rubbing my ear and sighing, redirecting my focus back onto the little, green, apparently deadly plant in front of me.

"A'liou," Zivan began, calling my attention back over to him, "I can tell you want to ask something, just go ahead. If it's something I don't want to tell you, I won't get mad, I'll just say so."

I stared at him open-mouthed for a second. I had expected to have to dance around this if I wanted to learn about my teacher.

"Did you really kill that highwayman by choking him?" Burst unbidden from my mouth, and I instantly felt frustrated with myself for asking such a stupid first question and probably ruining this afternoon. I could have lived not knowing that answer, but it was on my mind, and as I said earlier, I am terrible at repressing myself.

Zivan looked sheepish. "...Ah... I assume you mean the time I had to come to the aid of the Wailers outside of Quarrymill. Yes, I did. Or, well, sort of. I choked him unconscious, but after I had done so, the Wailers captured him and he was hanged. I see no meaningful difference, personally."

I thought about that, my tail starting to thump on the ground. 

"...People were talking about it like you were some kind of... monster! That doesn't sound that bad, to hear you say it," I stated, my annoyance ringing clear in my voice.

"...You don't understand, A'liou, and I hope you never do. As much as I strive to keep this part of myself enchained and well-behaved, I am as much a beast as a healer," He said, and for only a moment I thought I saw sadness in his eyes, a brief downward glance, but he continued, raising his eyes once more, "and to starve a beast would be abuse. The best you can do with a beast is to give them... a constructive outlet, so they can be themselves in the least harmful way possible."

I stared at him, raising both my eyebrows. 

"A beast, Zivan...? That's pretty melodramatic," I insisted, and he rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean it! You think because you've got horns and you like fighting that makes you, what...? A voidsent?" I asked, and I saw him flinch. Maybe that was the wrong example, but I thrust forth before he could latch onto it, "You aren't! Just because sometimes you kill doesn't take away that you've worked your whole life to heal!"

I felt like I was fussing, but he didn't call me out on it. He just sighed, looked up at the bright blue sky, and nodded slowly.

"I know, and thank you. It has been a long task for me to accept myself as I am... and I suppose such a task is never truly finished."

He looked at me, then down at my work. I had been working as I spoke, something I'm, surprisingly, quite good at, if I actually maintain my focus, that is. I had butchered the roots a little bit, but the plant was carefully separated, wrapped in thin cloth, and prepared to be dried for storage. He smiled at me with tired pride, and nodded.

"Very good, A'liou. Not bad at all. I believe the first time I harvested belladonna the roots came out in about twenty pieces, so I'm rather impressed!" He patted my head as he stood, and ruffled my hair. He knew that annoyed me, but considering the various ways I annoyed him on a daily basis, it was only fair.

"Thanks boss," I replied, and packed the belladonna in my pouch, rising and following him back to the river that would lead us out of the East Shroud.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first original work of fiction in this setting and on this site! If anyone stumbles across it, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. I might occasionally post other short stories about these characters and others here, as well.


End file.
